Cornered
by Lythande1972
Summary: Set in Season two, sometime after Innocence. Buffy decides it's time to take Angel out, once and for all, but he nearly gets the best of her. Now the scoobies have to find her and get her home.
1. Enough

Set in Season Two, sometime after _Innocence_. Let me know what you think!

--

She was tired of waiting, tired of caring. Tired of hurting.

Tired of living.

She knew where he would be, and she knew he would be alone. She packed a stake. She thought about it, and then left the crossbow at home. She had no desire to kill him from afar. If she couldn't beat him in hand to hand combat, she figured she was a poor goddamn excuse for a slayer.

She didn't tell anybody where she was going.

She found him in an alley with no one around. She stepped out of the shadows twenty feet from him, and then stood still, staring him down.

She vaguely noticed that it didn't hurt anymore, to see Angel's face twisted into Angelus' leer. She just didn't care.

She just wanted him dead.

Angelus stopped his stroll. He met her gaze and smiled slowly. "Hey, lover!" he called to her.His voice was low, dangerous. "What a wonderful surprise! It's been _so_ long. How ya been? Still pining over me?" He grinned widely and stepped closer. "You're _so_ persistent. I _love _that about you. It gives me so many chances…" he took another step.

"…to find new ways…" another few inches closer.

"…to just rip that heart of yours into _little_ _tiny_ _pieces_."

Buffy didn't move. She felt as if the world were muffled in cotton, and she liked it that way. If she thought about anything, it was going to hurt. So she concentrated on just staring him down. If he would just come closer, she would have the advantage…

He smiled even more widely, "It's just good clean fun, huh, Buff? So…" his voice lowered to a whisper, "whatcha wanna do tonight?"

He was still slowly walking towards her. Abruptly she spoke, making him stop.

"I wanna end this, Angelus," she said quietly. Her tone was completely flat. He looked surprised that she called him that name.

"I only have a stake. I didn't bring the crossbow."

She took a breath.

"I feel like dying. Or killing. Or both… and… I like the idea of _...you_ being part of that scenario.

"I like it--" she blinked, feeling her heart crack a little – "_very_ much."

She raised her voice and stepped towards him, pushing herself forward until she was just inches away. She raised her voice and glared into his face. "Whatdya think, _lover_? Wanna see who's _really_ the baddest demon? Wanna play?" She felt her voice shake. She gritted her teeth.

He didn't answer at first. They stood still, staring at each other, Angelus still smiling his dangerous smile, Buffy's face worn and exhausted and fierce.

Then he grabbed her, pinning her in an embrace. "Oh, I _love_ that idea!" he hissed, suddenly in game face.

She was frozen –

In his arms –

their noses almost touching –

She stared in his eyes –

time stopped –

and then everything sped up as she forced herself to move, to fight. She pushed his arms easily up from her sides and flipped him over her. He landed hard on his back on the pavement, but was up before she could turn around. She lunged at him and got in a good punch on his jaw and then a spin kick that knocked him into a pile of trashcans behind him. But he was on his game tonight and bounced back up, blew her a kiss, and came back at her. His fist connected with her nose and spun her around. She quickly crouched to duck a second blow and then rose up to kick him hard in the face. He blocked her kick and threw her against the wall.

Around and around they went, evenly matched and tireless. It started to drizzle. Buffy felt as though she could fight him forever. She knew she would not stop until one of them was dead. She tripped him, stomped on his knee, and punched him in the face; he rolled away from her and then was up again and landed another punch on her bruised temple. She didn't feel it and didn't care.

She punched him again and again, faster….ducking his blows, trying not to get hurt too badly…over and over again. It was raining harder now.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Water coursed down her face in the storm.

And then she felt it – he was slowing. She saw it in his face. He was tiring. _She had him_.

She punched even harder, whipping his head around, threw him against the wall.

And something in her broke.

The calm façade blew apart and in its place her pent up anger and fear and pain came whirling out of her like a dervish, driving her arms like hammers. She began to scream, to cry, to rage at him even as she pummeled him with her fists and her feet. More and more and faster and faster. She punished him for leaving her, for loving her, for breaking her heart, for terrorizing her friends and family. She had completely lost control. It was the most glorious fight of her life. She was soaked to the skin. She had him pinned against a wall – she reached back for her stake, preparing for the end –

And then suddenly it all changed to slow motion as he pushed forward and drove a knife into her stomach.

She felt the pain roar through her like a train. She watched as if she wasn't in her own body as slowly – slowly – her arms flew apart, of their own accord. She felt herself arch backwards in agony, and fought to stay on her feet, fought to stay conscious --

He pushed himself forward off the wall, and grabbed her as she staggered. His face was bloody and beaten. He pulled her to him, forcing the knife deeper into her, and she gasped and gurgled. He pushed his face into hers, snarling, as the rain mixed their blood.

"Gotcha," he said.

Time went fluid and loopy. She felt dizziness pulling at her but she pulled back against it and forced her eyes open. With drenched, bloody hands she pushed at him, then harder, and with a great shove she pushed herself away from him and off of the knife. She stumbled backwards and nearly fell, bile rising in her throat, miasma dancing in her vision. She forced a fist into the wound, to hold it together, to help her stay upright.

She didn't see him coming but suddenly he was in her face, grinning again even as blood and rain ran down his face and off of his chin. She swung at him but he blocked it easily, grabbing her arm and then twisting it behind her, bending her forward. She gasped and struggled, but she was weakening.

_I have to get out of this_, she thought, squinting desperately around through the downpour for a tool, a trick, a way out. There was nothing…and then she saw it. She viciously slammed her head up, connecting with his chin and breaking his grip on her. It was Angelus' turn to stagger backwards dizzily. She shot forward away from him and grabbed a metal rod out of the trash. Before he had recovered his balance she bashed him in the head with it with all of her strength. The first blow knocked him to his hands and knees, the second onto his face. After the third, he lay still.

She stood there, swaying. She reached into her shirt, almost falling over with the effort, for her stake, to finish the deed and kill the motherfucker.

Her shirt was empty. The stake was gone.

She patted her shirt frantically, and then looked all around them, but it had disappeared. _OK_, she thought, _no biggie, I can make another one, there's gotta be some wood in the trash here_…but turning to look was more then she could do. She had run out of time. She staggered and fell against the wall. Her clothes were warm where they were soaked with her blood.

_Fuck!_ She yelled at herself. _Hold it together! Finish the job!_

Trembling, she tried one more time to turn towards the trashpile when she heard a terrible sound.

Vampires, in the street at the end of the alley. She heard them growl. They smelled blood.

_Oh, shit. _

Self-preservation took over and forced her to move. With a burst of energy, she ran – but the alley was a dead end. She had to hide before they found her, she couldn't fight anybody like this! Frantically she leapt up to a window ledge, almost slipping off in the rain. She broke the window, and threw herself through.

She landed and rolled on an old wooden floor. Immediately she jumped to her feet, and then fell again to her knees as pain and dizziness threatened to flatten her_. I won't_, she told herself desperately, and forced herself to stand again. This time she didn't fall.

The vamps would be able to smell her, and she wasn't going to be able to get home in this condition. She had to hide until daylight – someplace hard to get to.

She looked around. She was in a huge room – an old warehouse, with giant ducts running from the ceiling. With a running jump, fighting the urge to throw up, she bounded onto a large table and flung herself up to a duct. The motion tore at her wounded stomach until she had to bite her tongue hard to keep from crying out. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she punched a hole in the ceiling and forced herself up and through. With her last strength she covered the hole and then crawled as far into the darkness as she could. She curled up in a corner, and passed out.

--

Xander took another bite of his apple, and then spoke with his mouth full. "Whmmph Bmmff?"

Bits of chewed apple flew out and landed on the library table. Xander noticed Giles' glare, looked down and saw the mess, swallowed, and grinned. "Oops, sorry. Told you I was a cretin. Willow, pass me a kleenex?"

"She wasn't in History with you?" asked Willow.

"Nope. She got to miss out on _that_ barrel of laughs. Giles, you seen her?"

Giles leaned out of the stacks again, now looking concerned. "No…no, she hasn't been by today. Erm, I wasn't expecting her until noon, and it's…" He looked at his watch. "Oh goodness, it's quite late, isn't it?"

"It's one thirty," said Willow helpfully. "I'm worried. I know, I know, I'm always worried, but sometimes, the worrying, it's a helpful thing. I don't think she's in school today. Xander, whaddya say we call her house?"

"Already there, Will…" He dialed and listened, and then hung up. "No answer."

"Her Mom's out of town," said Willow. "If something happened to her last night no one would know. Xander, let's go check on her."

"But Principal Snyder?"

"Are you _kidding_? Screw him. Come on – my car's in the back lot."

--

Buffy's house was empty, but not dark. The lights were on in the living room. No one answered the door.

"Like she never came home last night," whimpered Willow.

"OK, OK, we are not called the scoobies for no reason," said Xander. "What's the next thing we would do if we were meddling kids?"

"Break in," said Willow, instantly brightening.

They climbed the porch to Buffy's window, pushed it open, and tumbled onto her floor. Her room looked totally normal.

Xander looked around in disappointment. "No signs of a fight…"

"That's a _good_ thing!" said Willow pointedly.

Xander glared at her for interrupting him. "…no _note_ left, explaining exactly where she was going; no breadcrumbs, no nothing! You could have helped us here, Buff!" he complained to the walls.

"Well, we do have one thing to go on," said Willow. "Her gear bag is here, and I think everything's in it. It doesn't look like she went out slaying."

--

Miles away, Buffy lay curled where she'd collapsed, trembling with fever. Blood dripped from her shirt and ran in streaks along the uneven floor. She was dreaming of Angel.

--


	2. The Search

It was after five now. The sun was low in the sky through the windows in the library. They'd checked hospitals, the bus station records, and the coroner's office. They had found no trace of Buffy. 

Giles was pacing. "Well, I think we can conclude that something happened to her, and that it wasn't good. The question is, how can we find her?"

Willow sat in front of her computer, but she wasn't typing. "I can't think of any other websites to check. Is there any place we could have missed? Anyone who might know what happened to her?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Other than our favorite asshole, I think we're stuck. And I _don't_ think he's going to tell us if he had something to do with this." Xander stopped, and paled a little. "Oh jeez, it _is_ Angel. He got to her. I know it." He turned to Giles. "We've gotta find her, Giles!"

"Now, now," said Giles. "We don't know, erm, anything. We mustn't panic. Buffy is very good at taking care of herself." But he was pale, too.

Willow made a little jumpy noise, like a hiccup. Xander and Giles turned to look at her. "Will?"

"_Hip_," hiccuped Willow. "Oh. Yeah. Nervous. Hiccups. Because…I just thought of something that makes me nervous. _Hip_."

Xander and Giles continued to stare at her.

"What if we _...hip_…asked _Angel_...where she is?"

"Oh no no no," said Giles furiously. "If he didn't do this to her, and he finds out she's hurt, if," he looked nervously at them, "if she _is_ hurt, then he'll go looking for her, too. And we can't let him find her before we do.

"If she's hiding somewhere, and he finds her, erm…he'll, he'll kill her."

"_Hip_," protested Willow.

"Well I for one am _not_ in the mood to wait any longer," announced Xander, jumping down off the table. "Dammit, if she's out there somewhere, hurt, or trapped…it's our job to find her." He snapped his fingers. "I know where I can get a military heat-seeking camera! We can search the city for her that way."

"No, in a city those things are, are useless," said Giles. "There's too much, er, ambient heat. But what if we - "

"Um, hello?" interrupted Willow. "Planning dudes? My idea's …_hip_ …not as crazy as you think.

"I don't think we should really _ask_ Angel. But we could, you know, spy on him. _Hip_. See if he has-" she gulped, "um, has her, or knows where she is. See if he brags about – _hip_- anything."

Giles and Xander looked at each other, then back at Willow.

"Hmmm," said Giles, "Erm, yes, mmm…well… that's an excellent idea. Assuming we can avoid getting killed ourselves, but…erm…yes, I'm willing to bet that Angel will have some answers for us." He turned towards the arms cache. "All right then, we'll all need the usual, crosses, holy water, stakes, crossbows…"

"_Hip_," agreed Willow.

--

They were huddled in the shadows in an alley outside Angel's apartment. The sun had set and they watched as a light went on inside.

"He's there!" whispered Xander.

"_Shh_!" scolded Giles.

It was cold; the pavement was still damp from the previous nights' rain. Xander huddled against Willow, who rolled her eyes in frustration, but didn't pull away. They sat and watched. And watched.

Two hours later, Angel limped out of the front door.

His face was bruised and he held himself stiffly as he turned down the street. They waited until he turned the corner and then, as silently as they could, they scrambled up and tiptoed down the street after him.

"He looks like he was in a fight, all right," muttered Xander.

"He looks like he _lost_," whispered Giles. "I wonder…"

They trailed him for several blocks until he turned down a tiny side street, strewn with trash and tipped-over trashcans. From behind a low wall across the street, they watched as he scanned the buildings, and then…sniffed the air.

He stood still for a moment, and then he smiled a terrible, slow smile. "I can smell you, _lover_," he hissed. "I know I hurt you. I hope I killed you. Are you still here?"

Across the street, Xander went pale. Willow made a fist.

Angel began to walk slowly away from them, deeper into the alley, still sniffing the air. "Where are you?" he called softly. "Come out, come out…_ah_!" he grinned in satisfaction as he saw the broken window. "_That's _where you went." He stood on his toes and sniffed at the window ledge.

"Oh, I _did_ hurt you. You left a lot of blood here on the sill, sweetheart." He _tsked_. "Sloppy work."

Xander's heart was pounding. He was sure that Angel could hear the racket it must be making. He tried to force his breathing to slow, to keep still and silent. _He'll lead us to her_, he thought. _Just keep looking for her, you dead bastard, and when you've shown us where she is, then we'll kick your sorry ass_…

He felt Willow's hand in his and he squeezed it gratefully.

They ducked down behind the wall as Angel turned back towards them. When they peeked up again, he was gone – but a door into the warehouse was newly cracked open.

They waited a few terribly long seconds to see if he would come back out. He didn't. Quickly and as silently as they could, they stood up and crept across the street and up to that door.

Giles and Willow loaded their crossbows, and then Giles leaned slowly in until he could see into the warehouse.

The room was dark. A few streaks of half-light came in through the windows at the far end, probably from streetlights. As far as Giles could see, it was empty.

He waved his hand behind his back to signal to Xander and Willow that they were going in, and the three of them crept into the doorway. They had gotten about five feet into the room when Angel swung down from above them and kicked Xander in the head, knocking him into Willow. They both fell to the floor. Without a pause he jumped on Giles and slammed him against the wall.

"You pitiful humans can't even cross the street without raising the dead," he sneered into Giles' face. "You're a sorry excuse for a Watcher! And now," his voice became sing-song and simpering, "you've gone and _let your Slayer bleed to death."_

Giles and Willow both gasped.

"How _irresponsible!_ You must just…" Angel pushed his face even closer to Giles, and let his lips brush Giles' cheek. "…feel…awful."

Giles stood frozen. His crossbow was pinned between them, and pointed in the wrong direction. Gently, he tried to ease his hand down to the pocket that held his cross.

_Wham!_ Something slammed into Angel's arm and made him howl in pain and spin away from Giles. Giles scrambled to get away from him and swiftly raised the crossbow up, pointing it at Angel's face. Behind him, Willow was reloading hers. Her arrow stuck out of Angel's arm at a crazy angle.

Angel grabbed at the shaft and yanked it out, breathing hard, and then glared at them of them. "Well, I guess you just ruined our little party, _witch_." He rushed at Willow, still holding his wounded arm. Willow's crossbow wasn't fully loaded, and she frantically ducked him, but he shot past her and out the door. Turning back, he taunted them, "Good luck finding your precious Slayer without me!" An arrow from Giles' crossbow followed him out the door and bounced harmlessly on the pavement, but he was gone.

Giles and Willow stood still for a moment, taking ragged breaths. Willow shot a horrified look at Giles, and then bent down to Xander, who was still lying on the floor. He was blinking at her and looked confused.

"Xander? You OK?"

"Um…yeah," he said. She helped him sit up. "Yeah. Oh. Ow. He conked me good." He looked at Giles, saw that both their crossbows were empty. "What happened?"

"You missed some fun. We…erm…Angel's gone. We have to find her on our own, now. And," he looked worriedly at the door, "I don't think we'll be alone for long. We'd better hurry."

"OK, then." Xander stood up, holding his head. "Is she here somewhere?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out…" said Willow. She walked a little ways into the center of the room, squinting in the gloom. And then, "oh –" she cried softly.

In front of her was a bloody fragment of a bootprint.

Quickly they all moved forwards, crossbows raised, looking for more prints. It was quite hard to see marks on the uneven floor in the half-light, but then they saw another – just one more – and then nothing.

They were smack in the middle of the room, and the trail ended. Nothing nearby but a large metal table. Nowhere to go.

"She went nowhere!" said Willow, frustration putting an edge into her voice.

"Hmm…" said Xander thoughtfully. "Nowhere… but…up!" He pointed silently at the ragged edges of a torn piece of ceiling tile.

"OK, then!" whispered Giles excitedly. "OK. This we can do. Um – Anybody see a way to get up there?"

They pulled a ladder over. It was too short and they had to place it on the table to reach the ceiling. Giles and Xander grabbed the legs of the ladder to steady it, and Willow started up.

The table wasn't level and the ladder rocked back and forth, even as Giles and Xander fought to hold it still. Willow swallowed nervously and concentrated on not looking down.

When she reached the ceiling, she pushed at the nearest ceiling tile. It didn't budge. She braced herself and pushed harder, grunting with the effort. After a few seconds it gave suddenly and flew up into the crawlspace; Willow nearly lost her balance and had to scrabble at the ladder to stay up.

"You OK, Will?" called Xander worriedly. "Don't fall!"

"No, I'm OK," said Willow distractedly. She looked down at him and smiled. "Don't drop me."

"Don't you worry. Just…be careful up there. Can you see anything?"

Willow pushed herself up further on the ladder and peered into the crawlspace. It was absolutely black. "Um, not much."

She poked her head back down and asked, "Anybody got a flashlight?"

No one had brought one.

"Shit," said Willow quietly. "I'm glad I've got my cross. Well," she said more loudly, "Here goes nothing - " and she swung herself into the ceiling and disappeared.

Giles gulped nervously.


	3. In the dark

The crawlspace was only a couple of feet high and Willow bumped her head hard on the ceiling. "Ow!...I'm OK," she yelled down. 

"All right then, be careful," called Giles. He sounded very far away.

Willow turned herself around in the tight space and waited to see if her eyes would adjust. They did, a little, and she began to see vague shapes in the space around her. She sat very still and looked, hard, in front of her to see if she could figure out what any of them were. She couldn't.

And then, very faintly, she heard the sound of somebody breathing.

She gasped in fright. She felt suddenly deafened by the pounding of her heart as it tried to crawl right out of her ears. "_Buffy? Buffy_?" she whispered frantically. "_Buffy_?"

There was no response. She spun around quickly, trying to hear it again, but she couldn't hear anything with her body freaking out like it was. After a minute of just feeling panicky, she concentrated on slowing her breathing and calm down.

_She's here. I hear her. "_Buff?" she called again, more quietly this time. "Buff, are you there?"

There was no answer – but then she heard it again. A raspy, sickly breath from over her shoulder.

Ever so slowly, she turned, and though every muscle in her body was screaming at her to run, she instead started crawling towards the sound. _Oh God_, she thought, _it better be Buffy_…_Oh God, please don't let it be Buffy, please don't let her be trapped up here_…

After what felt like an eternity of shaky, frightened shuffling on her hands and knees, she heard the breath again, louder.

And then her hand touched something.

Buffy's boot.

Relief and more worry shot through her like lightning.

"I, I, I got her!" she yelled to Giles and Xander. "I got her!" Then more quietly, "Buffy? Buffy, can you hear me?"

"Is she OK? _Willow_?" called back Giles and Xander frantically.

"Um, I dunno. I'm going to bring her down..." She couldn't see Buffy's face in the shadows, but the Slayer wasn't moving…just making that awful, raspy sound with each breath. Willow ran her hands along Buffy's body, feeling for broken bones. Buffy's clothes were wet and clammy. Willow's fingers found the knife wound, sticky with blood. Buffy's body jerked when she touched it, startling Willow.

"OK," said Willow, tears running down her face. "OK, Buff, I'm going to get you out of here. So you've got something…wrong…in your stomach there. OK. That's not so bad. Um…Any other problems?" she asked, running her hands over the rest of Buffy's body. Nothing else seemed wrong.

She felt tears on Buffy's face to match her own. And then she heard Buffy whisper, in a tiny, shaky voice, "W…Will?"

Willow burst into fresh tears. "Yes, yes, Buff, it's me!" she patted around Buffy's body in the dark until she found a hand, and clasped it to her lips. "Buff, you're going to be OK. We're here. All of us. We're going to get you home, OK?"

"Will…" Buffy murmured again.

"Willow?" she heard again from the floor below. "Willow? What's going on? Is she OK?"

"She's hurt," Willow called back, her voice catching in her throat. "I think it's pretty bad. I'm going to drag her over to the ladder. Can I pass her down to you?"

"OK, yeah, absolutely," came back Xander's voice. Then, suddenly louder, "I'm right here."

Willow looked back and saw Xander's head poking up through the hole she'd made. His face was ashen with worry, but the sight made Willow smile with relief – now they were two!

"OK. She's over here. I'll bring her to you." She gave a tug on Buffy's legs and began to pull her over to where Xander waited. At first, it seemed easy – and then all of a sudden Buffy cried out in pain, pulling her feet from Willow's grasp.

"Buffy!" yelled Willow. "Easy, Buffy!" Tears were running off of her nose and making the floor wet as she crawled through the dust. "I know it hurts, Buff, I know! Just hang in there and it's going to be OK. I'm just going to grab your boot again, OK? It's just me, it's just Will."

Buffy made a noise in her throat, but didn't move. Willow grabbed her boot for the second time and pulled. This time Buffy didn't respond.

It was hard work - half-dragging, half-crawling in the darkness. Willow grunted with effort. When she looked up again, she was almost to Xander – and she was totally unprepared for the horrified look on his face.

"Oh, my God," breathed Xander.

Willow looked back where he was looking.

In the light from below she could finally see that Buffy was soaked in blood. It matted her hair; she was streaked with it from her face to her boots, and in a great red, wet stain that covered her torso. Her eyes were closed and Willow could feel Buffy's body shaking under her hands.

Somehow, they got her over the hole in the ceiling. Buffy opened her eyes as Willow was passing her into Xander's arms. She blinked and looked into Xander's face.

"Hey, Buff," said Xander. His eyes were shining. "Oh man, I have never been so happy to see you in all my life!"

"Hi...Xan…" Buffy whispered – and then she shuddered and hissed in pain as Willow's hand brushed her stomach. She closed her eyes and her head fell back. She lay limp over Xander's shoulder as he slowly navigated his way down the ladder.

Below him, Giles was completely white. "Oh, my God," he whispered. A drop of Buffy's blood landed on his glasses.

He reached shaking hands up and helped guide Buffy down to the table. Her face was covered in bruises and blood. Underneath, her skin and lips were ashen. She shivered on the cold metal. Xander pulled his coat off with bloodstained hands and carefully wrapped Buffy in it, cupping his hand below her head. Giles held a hand up to help Willow down the ladder. Willow jumped to the floor and stared at Buffy and began to babble. "She hasn't. Um…bled to death. He lied. She's alive. She's going to be OK. Right?" She looked at Giles.

"We've got to get out of here," said Giles. "Now."

Angel stood blocking the doorway.


End file.
